He went to Manila seeking his fortune but the city was cold and uncaring, thumbing its nose at provincial upstarts like him. Many nights he went to bed without supper, lulling himself to sleep with nothing more than the memories of his mother's lullabies. During the dark hours of the night he would recite the Latin prayers he learned as an altar boy. He would say a Pater Noster for the bishop who taught him to read and write in the ornate calligraphy which, in his later life, would become his trademark. But the city remained unmoved. He decided, however, not to be vanquished and since he had a need for order and structure, life in the military service seemed to be the answer.
He joined the Army because it promised him stability. He had lied about his age and this secret kept him distant from the others. When asked about his hometown, all he could talk about was how his cousins, the Ricaforts, treated him badly just because he was born dark.
Soon the routine of Army life would become intolerable. He often dreamt about going back to his little island and being accoladed a hero's welcome but he knew that four years without receiving an officer's insignia was not the rank he wanted to return home with. When his tour of duty ended, however, he found himself reviewing his young life again. He was getting tired of small towns and small cities. His prospects for the future were slim: a young man from the provinces did not stand a chance.
But the Navy had a better promise: join the force and see the world. Ah, what better way to change the course of one's fate, he thought. He signed the commission papers with his usual flourish, quickly and without any moment's hesitation. He did not want to think about consequences and focused only on the wide horizon. With the few pesos he saved, he boarded the ship which was sailing for San Francisco, carrying the small satchel containing his clothes. There was no turning back. |
